Metamorphose
by sagacious-twit
Summary: Bruce is reflecting on Rachel's death and his life as the Batman. When Bruce reads the letter, he puts himself more into the role of the masked vigilante to protect his bruised and battered alter ego. Can the Joker help him find solace? Please R&R!
1. Reflections

A/N: I kept on watching and rewatching the Dark Knight and read parts of the script (type the dark knight script on google and click the first result, that's what I did anyways... ) just to get the gist of what I'm writing in addition to reading many fanfics by my fellow authors of TDK BatmanxJoker fanfiction. I don't write that often but when I do, it's been known to blow people's minds. No joking... I don't really know how long this story will become, but I'm not going to drag it out over a period of 50 chapters (cause that's just too laborious!) that's for sure! If I had to guess, I'd say maybe 25-30 chapters, maybe not even 25, but I do want to do at least 20. I'll try to get as many chapters up as I can before school begins, at least three but no promises. This story will be rated T for the first few chapters but will change to M after a few chapters, not sure which one... I named this story "Metamorphose" not only because it was a fitting title for Bruce's cathartic change and Joker's (er, kinda?) transformation, but also because it is the name of a song from an anime called Monochrome Factor that reminds me so much of BatmanxJoker. My BFF since childhood (WritingInTheDarkness) told me about this song first and made me listen to it and she was right, it is good. So shoutouts and credit goes to WritingInTheDarkness for inspiring me to get up off my lazy ass and write, love ya Writing! Listen to Metamorphose, you'll love it, I think... Whatever, just listen to it!

Anyways, on with the show! Or story, whatever.

Sorry if it sounds a little random/angsty at first, it should make more "sense (whatever that is)" as the story goes on. I'm actually kinda writing it as I go because—as Joker says, "Do I really look [sound/read] like a guy [girl, in this case…] with a plan?"

Note: I wanted to leave the dialogue between Bruce and Alfred out of the story but I decided against it because it is a crucial scene and will be integral to the beginning of the fic and the fic altogether.

Summary: TDK up to and a little after the point of Bruce's reflection on Rachel's death. Everything is the same as it was in the scene—except, instead of telling Alfred that Rachel would have come back to him, he keeps it to himself to ponder the extent of his feelings towards his former childhood friend and love interest. Eventually, he reads the note she wrote him and discovers the true extent of her feeling towards him. Enter a Batman obsessed harlequin and you have yourself a recipe for disaster, or in this case, just what Batman needs. Batman/Bruce WaynexJoker.

BTW, in case you didn't realize this in the beginning or subsequent summary, yes, Batman/Bruce Wayne and Joker will be romantically involved in this story, and yes that includes yummy mentions of man on man action. In other words, **there will be SLASH**, if you don't like it, then don't read it, but don't go flaming/reporting my ass just because your fragile constitution can't deal with the fact that people actually like and write about this stuff; I'll hunt you down and make you pay if you do…

Jk! But seriously, **YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!**

**Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the damnable disclaimer! Wouldn't want my poor ass (and yes, I am poor because I'm in university and therefore most of my money gets siphoned off by my tuition, books, living, transportation and miscellaneous expenses, alas, the life of a student is tough, but I shall endure!) to be sued on account of my being too careless to put a disclaimer in!**

**Disclaimer *Legal Stuff!*: I do not own Warner Bros. Entertainment, Time Warner, DC Comics, Batman syndicate, The Dark Knight, Batman/Bruce Wayne, Joker, or any other characters mentioned in this story that are the intellectual property of Warner Bros. Entertainment, DC Comics, Time Warner, Batman syndicate, and The Dark Knight.**

**BTW, many thanks to Jonathan Nolan and Christopher Nolan for writing the script, I used some dialogue from the script in this story which will be asterisked when they appear.**

'_Italics' = thoughts_

'**Bold' = yelling/screaming**

'_**Bold Italic' = yelling/screaming in thoughts**_

*Smiles!* Enjoy!

* * *

Batman, Bruce Wayne or maybe a combination of the two since he wasn't wearing the cowl—stared off into the distance dejectedly, trying to make sense of everything that happened so far.

'_Rachel…' _The idea that she was gone forever was still sinking into his brain like blood on a pristine white shredded shirt; he knows that eventually it will seep into his mind and subconscious and knows that, like the shredded shirt, he will be ruined beyond repair. Only then will the tears, anger, and self-loathing come in droves but for now he feels numb, almost as if he's in a nightmare and any second he'll wake up and berate himself for being so stupid to believe that it was real.

Almost: he still wouldn't believe any of it if he did not rescue Harvey and did not witness first hand the horrendous injuries he sustained to the whole left side of his face which would never heal, not fully at least.

He stayed in this state for a good three or four hours or maybe even more: he couldn't really tell. Time didn't matter much to him now that his love was gone, her boyfriend was in hospital and he was partly responsible for it. Indirectly or not, he knew this was his fault and it hurt so much to know that. Guilt and doubts quickly came to the surface of his mind. _If only… _he were faster, he broke his rule, he took off his mask—then maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to save her; still see her smile, her knowing eyes, and her beautiful face again.

Alfred walked in carrying a tray with breakfast for Bruce, carefully avoiding the cowl and gauntlets; he didn't know why he brought it to begin with, it wasn't as if Bruce would touch a thing on it, depressed and lank as he was at the moment. With a half smile that never quite made it to his eyes, Alfred set the tray down on the coffee table beside Bruce, Rachel's envelope propped up against the silver tea pot.

Alfred clears his throat a little and says in a consolatory tone 'I prepared a little breakfast.'*

He was greeted by silence.

'Very well.'* Alfred turns to leave but Bruce's voice stops him.

'Alfred?'* Bruce almost whispered in a tone Alfred last heard when Bruce was much younger and he was coping with the sudden loss of his parents.

Bruce looked at Alfred with desperation apparent in his eyes as if asking his butler—although he was more like a father to him ever since his parents died—if what he did was what he should have done.

_Should I have become the Batman? What good has it done anyone but me?_

'Did I bring this on us? On her? I thought I would inspire good, not madness—'*

Alfred took a breath. 'You have inspired good. But you spat in the face of Gotham's criminals—didn't you think there might be casualties? Things were always going to have to get worse before they got better'*

Bruce's face tensed at those words, he knew what Alfred was saying was true, but almost could not believe they were coming out of his mouth. His mind screamed.

'_**RACHEL WAS NOT JUST "A CASUALITY!" She was my friend, my love!**_

_Ah, but she was never really your love… she never really loved you.' _A voice somewhere from the depths of his mind whispered menacingly. He pushed this thought to the back of his mind and buried it under what he should be thinking and feeling: raw anger, grief, guilt, and an urge to break his one rule and kill the Joker for injuring and killing his friends and terrorizing the citizens of Gotham City.

Instead of screaming all of this at Alfred, he decided to gloomily say 'But Rachel, Alfred…'*

'Rachel believed in what you stood for. What we stand for.'* Alfred sighed, looked at Bruce and picked up the cowl.

'Gotham needs you.'*

Bruce let out despondent laugh.

'Gotham needs its hero. And I let the Joker blow him half to hell—'*

'Which is why for now, they'll have to make do with you.'* Alfred interjected.

Alfred and Bruce stared at each other. Alfred knew from Bruce's glazed over eyes and the pain and sorrow in them that Bruce was done talking. Alfred put the cowl on Bruce's lap and turned to leave the room. Bruce wanted to be alone but he also wanted to know if the bandit that was similar to Joker in so many ways was captured and, _'preferentially killed_', made to pay for his crimes. He would not apologize in his mind for wanting the Joker dead—even if he knew he could never kill him.

Curiously, Bruce asked 'That bandit, in the forest in Burma… Did you catch him?'*

Alfred nodded and Bruce inwardly raised a fist in triumph; surely Alfred would never kill and if Alfred captured such a criminal without killing him, then so could he.

There was hope yet!

Slightly revived in his efforts against Joker, he pressed on.

'How?'*

Alfred looked uncomfortable when he replied but had no choice but to answer honestly.

'We burned the forest down.'*

Bruce looked devastated.

Alfred abruptly looked away from Bruce and scurried from the room altogether immediately after dropping the bomb on Bruce's lap and breaking psyche. He never looked back at his master and surrogate son—it would be too much for him to bear.

At that one little phrase, Bruce's world built upon that one little rule of his came to a screeching halt and began to fall apart.

Maybe there was no hope after all.

It was at that moment that Bruce's emotions finally caught up to him. Grasping the cowl tightly, he stood up and let out a deafening heart wrenching cry from deep within his chest, collapsed on his hands and shins and began to sob in earnest on the cold, hard and unforgiving marble floor.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter, I promise it will heat up later, but for now I'm building it up. Please review and convince others to read this story, your reviews make my day! I don't mind flames so long as they are constructive and not debilitating. Thanks for reading, please read on!**

**Jia Chan!  
**


	2. Everything Burns

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who favourited and reviewed! BTW, I'm Canadian and I was taught to spell some words, such as neighbour, with a "u" which is the British way (or was—whatever) and tend to be a stickler for rules, so I usually spell words like that the British/Canadian way. It just feels weird spelling "colour", for instance, without the u. Most Canadians are ambivalent as to spelling words the American or Canadian way. I'm not like most Canadians (or anyone), however. I like to try to set myself apart from the crowd so I take the trouble of patriotic and spell words the way I was taught all the way back in elementary school. Anyways enough with the rambling—which I do a lot of—and on with the fic!**

**Please keep on favouriting and reviewing! Your reviews and encouragements give me strength and I try to reward my audience by getting up chapters sooner.**

**Disclaimer: READ THE LONGWINDED DISCLAIMER AT THE BEGINNING OF THE FIRST CHAPTER. THIS IS ALSO KNOWN AS COVERING MY HOBO STUDENT ASS. **

**Everything that's quoted that is not in italics is from the script and is therefore the work of Jonathan Nolan and Christopher Nolan. Asterisking every quotation was too much! Plus I thought it would be annoying to the reader…**

**I switched up the script a little for creative purposes, so some sequences of events are in order, and others are switched around. Nothing big, changed from the script, just a little addition or subtraction here and there. I tried not to change it too much though.**

**I apologize if it sounds like I'm relying on the lines from the script too much, but I can't get into what the Joker's feeling just yet without the lines, so please bear with me, it'll heat up soon. I promise.**

**You know, I'm actually looking forward to how this story is going to turn out as well. This is the first time in long time that I actually feel a burning need to write and keep on writing about something or else I feel I'll go mad (like I'm not at least half insane already)!**

**BTW, this is not beta-ed. At least not by anyone else; it's just me, myself, and I proofreading everything. Not bad, neh? Anyways email/message me if you want me to be your beta and I shall try my best to edit and reply. Do keep in mind that I am a university student with a full work load—I have my own things to attend to. I can't dedicate every living moment to your story, but I will try to get back to you as soon as humanely possible. **

'_Italics' = thoughts_

'**Bold' = yelling/screaming**

'_**Bold Italic' = yelling/screaming in thoughts**_

**I've bolded and italicized some words which are not thoughts just to add a little panache to the story.**

**READ ON! **

**

* * *

**Joker was on top of the world. Well, a gigantic pile of cash, but that's what made the world go round anyways, so he wasn't very far off in saying that he was at the very summit of it, or very close.

'_Ha, money—that's all these fools are after, where's the finesse in killing and torturing if all you're doing it for is to make a buck? Where's the savouring of the blood and fear, the destruction... Chaos is underestimated, but today I'm gonna give these fools a taste of it. Let's see how long Chechen and those other mobster bastards will last when their lackeys get a taste for blood. They'll be on them as soon as hungry dogs on a piece of meat...'_

Joker gave one look at Lau _'the squealing rat...'_ He didn't like people in general; all of their "morals" and "codes of conduct" would be quickly put aside to satisfy their wants and especially didn't like people who would sell out themselves and others at the first offer that came their way. They were cowards—the whole lot of them; cowards like Chechen and Lau could never be trusted. They weren't stupid, loyal, or brave enough to work with him. They were better off dead: where they couldn't try to blackmail and bribe him (he never fell for those things anyways: it would just be annoying…) or sell him out.

Hopping off and sliding down the mountain of bills, Joker landed with a flourish in front of Chechen and smiled.

'_The fool, he thinks I'll work for him? Hehoohaha, wait til he gets a load of the surprise I got in store for him!_

As the Joker landed, Chechen laughed and admitted that Joker was right.

'Like I say—not so crazy as you look.'

Joker wondered where Maroni was, but wasn't too worried. He could be dealt with later when needed.

He wanted to off him soon though, so just in case…

'I told you—I'm a man of my word.' Joker stopped to look around for a bit before asking 'Where's the Italian?'

Chechen shrugged and lit up a cigar. He wondered what a strange man such as the Joker would spend his spoils on.

'_Probably buy out a whole friggin' circus, the freak…' _Chechen allowed himself a little bit of an inward chuckle at this thought before he actually humoured the clown and asked him what he would buy.

Joker smiled even more and tore a jerry can out of one of his thugs' hands and began liberally dousing the cash with it.

'I'm a man of simple tastes. I like gunpowder. Dynamite…'

Continuing to drown the cash in the foul smelling flammable liquid he added, '…gasoline…'

Chechen was enraged at the sight of money—partly _his _money—being bathed in gasoline, prepared to ignite at the littlest spark or flick of a match. He made a move forward to stop this incredible madness, but then the Joker reacted quickly and was soon pointing a gun right in the other man's face.

Chechen's bodyguards tried to contain the situation but the Joker motioned to his men and soon they had the bodyguards surrounded like pigs in a blanket.

Chechen glared at him as he finished what he was saying.

'And you know what they have in common? They're cheap.'

The bearded man yelled around his cigar, 'You said you were a man of your word!'

Joker glanced at that same cigar and pulled it out of the mouth agape with shock and rage.

Joker threw the cigar on the drenched bills and excitedly watched as they lit up and started curling up and disintegrating; burning brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow as the fire made the air around them waver.

'_Ah. Just like hell incarnate. How I love it.'_

He threw a nonchalant look over his shoulder at Lau, who was squirming and writhing now more than ever as the flames began licking at the worm's feet and started consuming his whole body, engulfing him—drying him out and shrivelling him up into what would eventually be ashes, indiscernible from the cash he had calculated so much about.

The Joker let out an almost inhuman roar of laughter and replied to the furious and terrified mobster with a simple and short 'I am'

'I'm only burning my half.'

Chechen tried to speak but all he could do was squeak a little.

They continued watching the money burn as the Joker started divulging another deluded train of thought to his rapt and mortified audience.

'All you care about is _money_. This city deserves a better class of criminal, and I'm going to give it to them. This is my town now. Tell your men they work for me.'

Chechen's dogs growled as the Joker crouched down towards them.

The desperate man gave one last show of rebelliousness to Joker and spat at his face.

'They won't work for a _freak_.'

Sparing a glance at the dogs, he grabbed a knife from one of his pockets and threw it towards his man.

'_We'll see now, won't we fido?'_

'Cut him up and offer him up to his little Princes. Let's show him just how _loyal_ a hungry dog is.'

Chechen then was led away screaming and hollering.

'It's not about money. It's about sending a _message…_'

As Joker allowed himself to watch the flaming pile of cash for awhile longer, he heard the slimy, calculating accountant let out an agonizing scream as the fire started licking at his heart, lungs, stomach and other vital organs; effectively roasting him while he's alive and can still feel the incredible pain.

Satisfied, Joker smirked and turned around. He has a date with a certain bat to prepare for.

'_Can't let anything get in the way, now can I?'_

'_Why bother with order when chaos is so much more gratifying? Order can't last forever, In the end…' _

'Everything. Burns.'

The Joker turned on his heel and left the burning, charred mess for "Gotham's finest" to discover.

'_Hope they like the little present-ah I'm giving them…'_

Joker smiled even more obscenely than ever before, exposing more yellow teeth than would be physically possible without the Glasgow smile he sported.

Pulling out a mobile, Joker kept the smile on his face as he punched in the number to the television station that Coleman Reese was currently in and ready to spill Batman's true secret identity to the whole population of Gotham and heck, why not the whole goddamned world. Once word got out on who Batman **really** was, the world would be on his back, ready to strike and bring him down: snuffing out the little light the Joker had left in this fucked up world.

He _couldn't_ let that to happen.

Waiting for someone to respond to his call, his dark mind was focused only one thought for the moment.

'_Looks like a hospital gonna get blown sky high…'_

* * *

**Ooh, Joker's gonna hurt someone real baad! Anyone, anyone? Ah Russell Peters-you crack me up! **

**Anyways, R&R and I'll be back soon with more chapters! Hopefully longer ones too, I tried to type more but I can't think of anything else to add that can't be done in another chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this because I have deprived myself of sleep for this chapter (it's about 2:00 A.M in Toronto right now... )! I'm literally running on fumes, caffeine and music right now... I better drag my sleep deprived ass to bed right now cause I won't wake up on time tomorrow if I don't! **

**Ciao bellas! Read on!  
**


	3. Realizations and promises

A/N: Thanks for the response! This chapter finally gets to the gist of the story. I'm going to delve deeper into the plot of the story. Batman and Joker should meet within the next two chapters or so.

Now, I'm not a diehard fan of Batman, but as any great writer should, I have done my research; so, long story short: this story is not solely based on TDK nor are they limited to events that happened between Bats and Joker in TDK. I have also never watched Batman Begins—mainly because Joker is not in it! I do however have a vague idea of what happened in the film and have studied Rachel's character. Therefore, while I will try to stick to the Batman Begins/TDK plotline for Rachel and in general because I am most comfortable with it, I will also utilise some aspects from the comics in general.

Unlike the last two chapters, this one relies only a little on the script. The only parts from the script are Rachel's lines from the letter.

Disclaimer: As always, Jonathan and Christopher Nolan wrote the script and I do not own Batman, Joker, The Dark Knight, or anything else used in this story that belongs to someone else. I am not making money off of this story in any way whatsoever.

All word effects (italics, etc.) in quotations have the same meaning as in the first chapters.

BTW, I watched Scott Pilgrim (again, it's that much fun) last week, it's awesome and set in the city I live in! Plus Michael Cera is cool. Go watch it if you wanna laugh; although, you might get a headache from watching it if you're not generally young (12-30s-ish) or an immature 40+ year old and/or not familiar with the gameosphere… Ah Mario was awesome-er when I was a kid—now it's kinda over commercialized.

I apologize if Bruce sounds a little (okay, a lot) OOC here but I can't get into his head as well as I can with Joker, which can either be good or bad for me, depends on whatever shade you view the world in I guess.

BTW, I am an active beta and I'm currently accepting stories, so get those fics to me if you want them beta-ed!

Enjoy!

* * *

It was dark outside, almost pitch black save for the moon and bright lights of the Gotham City skyline, when Bruce Wayne awoke from his curled up position on the hard marble floor with an abrupt start. Sitting up, he stretched his legs out and propped himself with his arms on the warm floor he previously occupied.

He looked around for any sign of Alfred or anyone else—hell even the cleaning service would be most welcome right now, secret identity be damned. He just needed someone to comfort him and assure him that his world was not going to pot.

He saw no one or anything unfamiliar until his roving eyes were met with the sight of the tray Alfred had placed on the coffee table earlier, half of it showing in the light of the moon. The envelope was in shadows.

Bruce rubbed a hand through his disheveled hair.

'_That envelope…' _he pushed himself off the ground and stumbled over to the tray, he was still groggy and sore from his wounds and crying himself to sleep on the harsh impromptu sleep place. The bat suit wasn't entirely comfortable material to sleep in either.

He yawned and stretched the kinks out of his body as much as he could before he finally analyzed the letter closely, like the good detective he was.

He snapped awake and alert more than ever when he recognized the neat scrawl his name was written in.

'_That's Rachel's writing!' _instantaneously throwing caution to the wind, he tore the small envelope open while at the same time making sure that he didn't ruin the last link he had to Rachel.

Holding the letter like he would a bomb ready to go off at any second, Bruce purposefully strode over to the wall where the light switch was and quickly set the lighting to a low setting bright enough to read something under, yet not enough to alert others that there was an occupant in the room. He didn't want any attention drawn to him if he could help it.

Carefully unfolding the parchment like a thirsty man would drink a glass of water, he finally glanced down at it, still telling himself that this was not a dream: that Rachel was actually dead and this was the last connection he had to her.

'_It has to be her confessing that she was going to dump Harvey and come back to me, where she belonged…'_

But what if it wasn't?

Somewhere in the maze that is his brain, a thought lingered that maybe she didn't love him as much as he loved her. That she was going to stick with Harvey and leave him to both his inner and outer demons.

Bruce didn't know if he could live with that if it were the case.

She was the last hope he had of living a life with at least some semblance of normalcy. Now it was all gone and one of the only things that were keeping him from slipping off the edge of sanity was the thought that she loved him like he loved her.

Well, he wouldn't know for sure unless he actually read the letter which contained the last words she meant for him.

He took a breath and steeled himself to read the letter—it wasn't going to be bad, right?

He could only hope so.

At last, Bruce sat down in the chair he previously occupied, stared down at the paper and read.

"_Dear Bruce, I need to explain…__"_

He started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach, but kept on reading anyway.

"…_I need to be honest and clear. I'm going to marry Harvey Dent…"_

The tears that he was holding back started to creep down his face at the blatant statement that shot his dreams down.

He kept on reading through blurring vision nonetheless. He needed to know what else she had to say—why she chose Harvey over him.

"_I love him," _Bruce choked and cried even more. _"I want to spend the rest of my life with him…"_

He almost crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it on the floor at that sentence.

He was so shocked and numb he couldn't speak. That didn't stop his mind from reeling though.

'_**WHY! I did everything she wanted and even more! I would have given up Batman and everything for her!'**_

'_No,__ Batsy, you wouldn't… It's just too much fuuunnnn for you to ever give it up without a fight.'_ the nasally, know-it-all voice chided. It sounded a lot like a certain clown—he didn't like it one bit.

'_**Why am I thinking this? Of course I wouldn't have liked it much**__**—Gotham needs a protector!' **_

'_Sure it does… Denial __ain't just a river in Egypt…' _the increasingly annoying voice taunted.

Beating the voice back into the warehouse that housed all of his fears, doubts and insecurities, he kept it barely under wraps as he continued reading the letter even though it pained him.

"_When I told you that if Gotham no longer needed Batman we could be together, I meant it…"_

His mind perked up at this and he read on with more fervor.

"_But I'm not sure the day will come when you no longer need Batman."_

The realization that she was right hurt almost more than the fact that she was gone and never coming back.

She was right. Batman was a crutch for him—a coping mechanism of sorts.

After his parents' deaths, a part of him died with them. The innocent little rich kid he once was was dead and buried; six feet under anguish, sorrow, and guilt from the fact that he was still alive. Shortly after their deaths, he wore his throat raw from screaming "why?" at Alfred over and over again, like a broken record. Bruce felt like he was betrayed by the world; why was the world so unfair as to rip his parents away from him?

After the funeral, he lost trust in people. Every person he viewed as being able to stab his back. In the years that followed his parents' deaths, Bruce's mind swirled with dark, depressing thoughts and plans for the revenge he craved so much. Alfred and Rachel were the only people that kept his young fractured mind somewhat intact during the whole ordeal and reorganization of his life.

Batman was partly born out of the almost uncontrollable rage that welled up inside of Bruce when he realized he would never be able to avenge his parents, at least not in the way he originally planned. Rachel changed his life—opened up his eyes to the possibilities of justice for all, so that everyone may prosper: which would never have been the case if he succeeded in his selfish bid for revenge which would have shamed his parents' memory.

If it weren't for Rachel, who knows what would have happened to him; he would never be Batman that he was certain of. He had Rachel to thank for saving his life and leading him on the path to justice. In a way, it made Bruce fall in love with her even more than before, which made Bruce feel uneasy about the true nature of his feelings for her. Did he really love her for herself or was a lot of it brought on by the fact that she helped him become the man he is today? He couldn't say for sure anymore…

Feeling significantly troubled by his revelation of sorts, he read the letter with a sense of bereavement more profound than before.

"_I hope it does, and if it does I will be there…"_

He knew what she was about to say next, but read on anyways.

"…_but as your __friend__."_

Surprisingly, he didn't feel as heartbroken for being rejected as he initially thought he would. The pain felt more like a hollow pang in his chest in comparison to the bloody and chaotic version of his heart being ripped out and stepped on as he had expected.

"_I'm sorry I let you down…"_

Bruce was a little taken aback by those words. If anything, he thought Batman let her down in her time of need. Guilt came back to the forefront of his mind but he focused onwards through it.

"_If you lose your faith in me, please keep your faith in __people__…"_

He never lost faith in her, she was his raison d'etre.

'_I won't lose faith ever again, Rachel. I promise.'_

With a renewed sense of purpose and hope, Bruce started to walk out of the room for a shower, but not before his eye caught sight of the line at the bottom of the letter.

"_Love, now and always, Rachel."_

He felt his throat dry when he read it.

'_Not enough to dump the DA for me though...' _He groaned.

The clown's voice came back again, only this time with even more laughter and little less breath.

'_**Give it up already!' **_he cackled, _**'When will you get it through your thick skull that you never loved her like he did and that your life would have been miserable if you did end up with her!'**_

Bruce mentally growled and proceeded to kick, punch, pull, push and knee the silly voice into submission until not even a whimper was heard.

Genuinely perturbed by his mind and thoughts, Bruce stalked off to the bathroom and jokingly added _psychological evaluation _to his list of things to do.

Switching himself into a more serious state of mind, he discarded the bat suit on the bathroom floor and quickly showered and changed into comfy sweatpants and a form fitting wife beater. He left the bat suit in the bathroom: Batman had enough action for the day.

As Bruce made his way to bed, he had the presence of mind to promise himself that the next time he saw the Joker he would beat him to a bloody pulp. Batman didn't kill—but that didn't mean he couldn't try to make the clown wish he were never born.

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**Ooh, intimidating! What will Batman have in store for Joker when next they meet? Keep on reading to find out! Same Bat Time, same Bat Channel! Lol, I loved watching the campy Batman show when I was a kid! Gotta love reruns! Anyways, please review! I am a review whore! Not really... but I still love them.**


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